Honey-bee
by extraordinarysheep
Summary: Song fic for Morbidmegz on tumblr established sherlolly Sherlock and Molly fight and Sherlock has to make up for it


„Shut up Sherlock!" Molly grabbed her coat and rushed out of 221B "I don't have to be here. Call me when you grow up. Or don't, that's probably better anyways!" the tears she had tried to hold back throughout the fight were streaming down her face as she all but ran. It started raining and not one cab she tried to hail down stopped. In the end she took the tube to her apartment, made herself a cup of tea and sobbed into her sofa pillows, Toby by her side, who didn't understand why his human made these kinds of noises.

Meanwhile in Bakerstreet, Sherlock paced through the living room

"I don't even know what set her off! What did I do wrong John?"

The former army doctor was leaning back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his noses with two fingers and thinking of a way to explain human behaviour to his bespoke sociopath and (coincidentally) best friend.

"You told her she was 'inconvenient'. You don't tell people that they are inconvenient. Especially not your girlfriend!"

"But I was doing an experiment!"

"With her favourite cardigan!"

"I didn't have one!"

"On your anniversary!" Sherlock stopped his pacing.

"It is not. Our anniversary is on Thursday. Today is… John… what day is it?"

"It _is _Thursday you idiot. If you would sleep regularly, you would have a better sense for days."

But John's advice was left unheard, because Sherlock already disappeared into his bedroom, still wearing coat and scarf, muttering to himself about 'make up', 'honeybees' and something about 'giraffes'. John decided he had done everything he could by making Sherlock realise he was in the wrong and chose to make himself a cuppa and call his girlfriend Mary to make a lunch date.

Molly woke up to someone continuously knocking on her door. She had fallen asleep, crying and her face was all puffy and red and she had lines all over her cheek from lying on the crumpled pillow. She took a moment to compose herself and looked through the spyhole in her door.

It was Sherlock.

She opened the door abruptly and Sherlock almost knocked in the air fro the sudden movement.

"What do you want?" Molly was not in the mood to forgive him that easily. Those times were over. But Sherlock didn't say a word. He just pressed play on a tiny speaker connected to an iPod in his hand.

A nice acoustic guitar solo started playing, along with some vocals. Molly was confused, she knew she knew the song, but she didn't know where from. Then Sherlock started singing.

Sherlock. Started. Singing.

"_You didn't have to look my way_

_Your eyes still haunt me to this day_

_But you did. Yes, you did"_

Molly clasped her hand in front of her mouth to silence a squeal that otherwise would have interrupted the performance before her. Sherlock was now getting to the Chorus:

„_Oh, Turpentine erase me whole_

_(Cause I) don't want to live my life alone_

_(Well I) was waiting for you all my life "_

It was honeybee from one of her favourite bands, steam-powered giraffe. She had never even told Sherlock about it, but obviously he was still deducing things of her. She had always fantasized about the song being about her and Sherlock, especially because of his bee-hobby. She started crying again, this time not because she was angry, but because of, well, Sherlock would call it _sentiment_. Said consulting stopped his singing immediately when he noticed his girlfriend crying again.

"Did I do something wrong? I thought you liked the song. I saw it on your iTunes and…"

"Oh shut up!" Molly all but jumped into his arms, hugging him like she was holding on for dear life. The (now completely confused) Sherlock reciprocated, folding his arms around her back, almost engulfing her in his coat, and laying his chin on the top of his head.

She felt him speak again

"I am sorry for what I did. I thought it was only Tuesday. And I also thought you wouldn't want the cardigan anymore after Anderson commented on it last week."

"Don't ruin it" muttered Molly into his scarf. She was not ready yet to emerge from the Sherlock scented fabric, which was currently surrounding her. The last chords of the song had long faded away when she finally lifted her head to look into Sherlock's ever-changing eyes. Right now they wear of an almost ice-blue, but radiated a warmth that no one who only knew him on cases would ever expect.

"You're an idiot. I love you." Sherlock's eyes grew warmer still.

"I love you too. And I will also buy you a knew cardigan."

"WHAT IS IT WITH THIS PUBLIC DISPLAY OF AFFECTION! THIS IS NOT A PAY-BY-THE-HOUR HOTEL. AND WHAT IS IT WITH THIS AWFUL NOISES!"

Molly's upstairs neighbour screamed down the staircase.

"I think we may have to go inside…" Molly took Sherlock by the scarf and pulled him the few steps inside. He had just enough room for conscious thought to kick the door shut behind them.

"I think it is time you moved to Bakerstreet" Sherlock answered, his lips now only thoughts away from hers. "At least there we will be… uninterrupted." With one swift movement he threw the iPod on the Sofa (where it almost hit Toby who flew into the kitchen) and closed the distance between their mouths.


End file.
